


Under The Red Sky

by ForgottenChesire



Series: Hella late 2018 Christmas [9]
Category: Jumanji: Welcome to the Jungle (2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, It's the end of the god damn world, M/M, Smut, a wee bit of fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-10
Updated: 2019-04-10
Packaged: 2020-01-11 04:02:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18422406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ForgottenChesire/pseuds/ForgottenChesire
Summary: Jefferson could have left. Could have flown away with the rest of them, sat in the pilot seat and never look back. It would have been sensible. Oh so sensible for Jefferson to ignore the fact that Shelly wasn’t there and just save those he could. Shelly would have forgiven him. But he came back for Shelly and was left behind too. The scientist hates himself for dooming both of them. For thinking he had more time to finish the decoding of the ancient map.Clothes are removed by shaky hands that still feel so good on Shelly's skin. Despite their shaking Jefferson still treats him like he's a priceless find, deposits sweet little kisses to his hips and whispers words said with the reverence of prayers on his supple stomach. Lube is procured and poured over fingers.





	Under The Red Sky

**Author's Note:**

> Very late Christmas present for a friend!~~nI hope this fits your first time, fluff, smut, and angst wants dear!

The roof is empty except for them. Left behind. Jefferson holds him, cradles him in muscular arms.

 

“It’s going to be okay.”

 

It’s a lie. Nothing is going to be okay. There is no such thing as okay now. Just an ever-ticking countdown. Jefferson kisses him sweetly, tilting his face so that their lips press together. Almost reluctantly they pull apart.

 

“I meant what I said. If… if you-” he cuts himself off with an unsure smile. Shelly kisses him again.

 

“We don’t have much time,” Shelly whispers, arms wrapped around Jefferson’s neck. He presses himself against his lover. Hungry for touch, to be as close as he can possibly get to Jefferson. The ex-air force officer is warmth and safety wrapped up in leather. There is a hand in his hair, calloused and sure, that pulls his hair, tilting his head back so that Jefferson can plunder his mouth.

 

“I’m not rushing this,” is growled against his lips. A heat grows in his belly tempered by logic and fear. By things they are both trying desperately to ignore.

 

“Seaplane, please… I don’t-”

 

“You won’t but I don’t want to hurt you.”

 

Gently he’s pressed down. It’s not the most comfortable place to lose his virginity, this sun-heated, hard concrete roof of the base, or as close to a base as one can be when not officially affiliated with the military can be, they both work in but it’s what they have. Kisses are pressed to his cheeks, his nose, little nips trail down from his temple to his lips. Sensations that distract the academic.

 

“I love you,” Shelly breathes out. Letting the soppy, sappy thoughts he’s been thinking since their fourth date out. Jefferson pulls back, a sad smile on his face as he cups the back of Shelly’s head.

 

“I love you too,” Jefferson’s voice is thick with emotion.

 

Maybe in another life things could have been different. Maybe Shelly could have taken his friend Smolder up on his offer to travel the world. To save Jumanji and many other places instead of settling here. Maybe he could have still met this man who is treating him oh so tenderly, far too tenderly what with their time restraint, a different way. Because he doesn’t want to think of a life where he doesn’t have Jefferson. Where his Seaplane doesn’t swoop in and save the day.

 

“I love you so much, Shell.”

 

Jefferson could have left. Could have flown away with the rest of them, sat in the pilot seat and never look back. It would have been sensible. Oh so sensible for Jefferson to ignore the fact that Shelly wasn’t there and just save those he could. Shelly would have forgiven him. But he came back for Shelly and was left behind too. The scientist hates himself for dooming both of them. For thinking he had more time to finish the decoding of the ancient map.

 

Clothes are removed by shaky hands that still feel so good on Shelly's skin. Despite their shaking Jefferson still treats him like he's a priceless find, deposits sweet little kisses to his hips and whispers words said with the reverence of prayers on his supple stomach. Lube is procured and poured over fingers.

 

They both strive to ignore the blaring siren. The red tint of the sky as a giant space rock comes hurtling ever closer. A finger slides in, covered in lube but it still stings, Jefferson surges up to swallow his moan of discomfort. Shelly anchors his hands in Jefferson's hair.

 

"We don't have time for gentle," it’s meant to be a reminder but it comes out as almost a beg.

 

"But we do. I'm not going to hurt you," Jefferson argues. His finger is moving. God is it moving. In and got, sometimes brushing his prostate. Shelly looks at the man he is going to spend the rest of his life with. The plump lips. The long lashes. The strong face. And behind him the sky, their doom. He smiles sadly. Mind flashing with different ways he could have lived this life, how he could have lived different lives. All connecting with Jefferson. With a shaky nod relaxes as much as a person in his position can.

 

"Okay."

 

He's not sure when one finger turns to two, or when Jefferson encouraged him to touch himself. He's wrapped up in the scent, the feel, the pleasure of what is being done to him. And then there is something bigger inside him. A whine escapes him as he adjusts to what is inside him. Jefferson is inside him, the thought circles in his mind.

 

Sex is everything and nothing like he imagined. It's fullness and pleasure. It's thrusting hips and gasping sighs. It's bites on his neck, on his shoulders, and bites everywhere that Jefferson can reach. It's being bent in half and biting back. It's concrete scratching at him, digging in. Desperation and adoration, fingers digging into his hips and a hand on his dick. He loves it and can see him being addicted to it if they had more time. Time the one thing they don’t have. 

 

With a cry that's more of a scream he comes. Body arching up and thick streams of cum coating both their stomachs. Jefferson is still hard inside him but the man doesn't attempt to find his own release. Instead, he just takes in Shelly. Then there is a loud boom. Only it's more than a boom. It's a crash and crack. It’s an echoing scream of a dying planet. Everything shakes, trembles, and tumbles. Metal electricity towers twist and fall in sparking showers. Winds howl and scream, destruction sweeping toward them. Death of everything and everyone that hadn’t made it to the bunkers. Bunkers that Shelly wasn’t even sure that will save them as the world leaders tried to make them believe.

 

"I love-"

 

And that is the world as we know it ends. In fire and dust and broken sound barriers.

**Author's Note:**

> This story is part of the [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject), which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates feedback, including:  
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